Set to Music
by True Colours
Summary: 'Yassen's thoughts were teaming, but his face was blank.' 'Somewhere between the hospital and the prison, Julius went briefly crazy.' 'After Ark Angel, all Alex could do was dream about Tamara Knight.' Ten ficlets done in real time to songs on my i-pod


**Set to Music**

**Disclaimer: **Me no own.

**A/N: I am about to put my i-pod on shuffle for ten songs and write a ficlet inspired by each song. These ficlets are going to involve OCs from Band Together as well as legit AR characters, so you may be a little lost, but whatever. I will have as long to write each one as the song lasts for. Which could be a slight problem, since I'm a rambler. Oh dear, I actually have butterflies in my stomach. And who wouldn't, if they were at the mercy of their i-pod? Okay, begin!**

'**Poker Face' by Lady Gaga, 3 minutes 56 seconds.**

Yassen clambered along the rooftop, eyes focussed on the ally below. He could see the target's face in the light of the cigarette he was lighting. He leaned his head in towards his companions and let them touch their cigarettes to his one at a time, all three of them puffing hard until the tobacco was glowing merrily. _Idiots,_ Yassen thought. Although technically they were right that this next cigarette would not be the thing that would kill them. Then he remembered that in the run-up to a kill he was not supposed to be thinking about anything.

_Haven't you ever heard the old soldiers' rule?_ He thought, drawing his pistol. _Never light three cigarettes with one match, because on the first light the sniper will notice you, on the second he will set his sights, and on the third one he will shoot._

So Yassen's thoughts were teaming irresponsibly, but his face was completely blank as he sent his bullet into the forehead illuminated in the red glow of the cigarette.

'**Get Me Outta Here' by Esm****é****e Denters, 3 minutes 21 seconds. **

At some point between the hospital and the prison, Julius went briefly crazy. It was actually quite an interesting experience. He felt almost outside his body as he watched himself screaming and pounding on the sides of the blacked-out van. He felt calm, as though he could have stopped any time he wanted to; he just had absolutely no will to.

There was a lightbulb in the van, which gave a dim orange light, but it was just as bad as darkness. It was utterly unchanging, and it brought him no new sensory information. The van's suspension was excellent, and it turned with uncanny smoothness. Worst of all was the very faint, tinny sound of the radio playing in the cockpit, because the songs should have changed, but never seemed to sound any different. So Julius beat out the time with his own head and hands on the walls and made his own music in the form of high-pitched screaming.

'**Carmina Burana – Dulcissime' by Karl Orf, 41 seconds.**

When Alex woke up, he could hear Clara singing in the kitchen. It would have been annoying any later in the day, but right now it made him feel calm and happy. He was very, very glad to be home.

'**Good Vibrations' by The Beach Boys, 3 minutes 36 seconds.**

'D'you like football?' Taylor asked, nudging the ball gently in Alex's direction. It had something of the tone of an awkward conversation starter, but Alex appreciated the effort.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Definitely.'

Taylor watched as Alex kicked the ball up and around for a little while, using his foot, knee and shin to make sure it never touched the ground.

'You played much at your old school?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Alex said. 'I was captain at one point. Uh – only of the lower-school squad, that is.'

'That's awesome!' Taylor said. 'You should try out here.'

'It a good team?'

'Yes. I play striker.'

'Striker?'

'Yeah. I don't really have the stamina, to be honest, but they keep me because I can run.'

'Run?' Alex echoed.

Thirty seconds later they were racing each other across the field. Even while he got beaten by ten seconds, Alex had a very good feeling about hanging out with Taylor.

'**Surfin' Safari' by The Beach Boys, 2 minutes 6 seconds.**

'You look less than thrilled, Rider-Frog,' Jane observed as they bounced down the track towards the beach in Clara's blue convertible.

'I've had bad experiences with surfing,' Alex admitted.

'Yeah, he told me,' Josh said from the front. 'He got chased by gangsters and nearly drowned.'

'Oh,' Clara said. 'I thought he was talking about getting given the kiss of life by a "cool" girl afterwards.'

'Well, I was talking about the near-death, actually,' Alex said, 'but I admit that was pretty traumatic too.'

'**Summertime' by George Gershwin, 2 minutes 40 seconds.**

The yacht carved through the sleek blue water, which was so cool that it almost seemed not to be there at all. Mrs Rothman was leaning on the side, feeling the sun beating on her shoulders as she stared at the sand that was perfectly visible ten metres below the surface.

'I have the report on the Jackson case.'

'Accent, Yassen,' Mrs Rothman said, turning to the nineteen-year-old standing stiffly in the middle of the deck.

He blushed slightly. 'I'm sorry,' he answered, in perfect English this time.

'That's quite alright,' she smiled. 'I should apologise, worrying about such little things on a beautiful day like this. But Yassen, I want to make absolutely sure that you learn to the best of your ability. You could make Scorpia so proud; I really believe you could.'

**Que Nem Vem-Vem' by Elba Ramalho, 2 minutes 41 seconds**

'For the last time, Sabina, I am _not_ learning the cha-cha!' Alex growled.

'Fine,' Sabina pouted. 'I'll dance with someone who's more fun then.' She pulled a smirking Tom off into the crowd.

Alex groaned and buried his head in his arms on the bar.

'Demanding chick?' a voice next to him enquired.

'Huh?' Alex looked up blearily and nearly fell off his barstool. A young man about his own age was grinning at him. He had hair dyed raspberry red, maroon skinny jeans and an apricot rose in his left ear. Everything clashed, but in a good way. He had a half-wild, predatory but very engaging grin.

'Not really,' Alex said. 'We just have slightly different ideas of a good time.'

It wasn't until the end of an evening of talking, dancing and, yes, kissing that the other boy slipped a silver scorpion into his hand and Alex realised he had just spent the evening with Julius Grief.

'**Since You've Been Gone' by Kelly Clarkson, 3 minutes 9 seconds.**

Jack Starbright gripped the steeringwheel of her red mini very hard as she drove down the streets of Washington D.C. Driving on the right felt bizarre after those seven years in England, even though she had thought that her native way of doing things would be something she'd never forget. And the impulse to drive on the left reminded her of Alex, along with tea, guns and sirop de grenadine.

Leaving was the only thing she could have done, she told herself repeatedly. It wasn't as if she was his mother. She had signed up to look after a boy, not help a man through the most dangerous job on earth. And she wasn't helping either of them; there were people much better-equipped to help him deal with this than her. But somehow, those assurances, Mrs Jones' promise to take care of him and being at home couldn't shake the memory of him screaming and smashing his bass as she'd walked out of the house.

'**Surfer Girl' by The Beach Boys (srsly, what is it with this i-pod?), 2 minutes 26 seconds.**

Alex lay in his bed in the Australian compound, staring up at the ceiling. The heat, the sound of the waves and the palm trees outside brought it all back.

One would have thought that going into space, and all the near-death experiences that had come with it, would have given him better things to think about, but all he could do was dream about Tamara Knight. The way she had looked, gorgeous and independent and strong and deadly and fun, in her wetsuit after she had pulled him out of the wreaked ship and saved his life. Her heart-rending cry as Drevin shot her in the arm. Most bitter-sweet of all, the kiss she had blown him as he climbed into the rocket. Maybe, just maybe, she thought of him as a hero. More likely she was trying to make a little boy feel better as they sent him to his death.

'**Sao Joao Na Estrada' by Elba Ramalho, 4 minutes 41 seconds.**

Alex could hear crickets chirping as he crawled on his belly through the underbrush. The leaves of sharp, semi-desert plants, pungent, oily eucalyptuses and bottle brushes, scraped at his back and neck. And up ahead, he could hear the castanets.

There. By his hand. A disturbance in the leaves.

He followed the tracks expertly, but he was so absorbed in the work, and somehow mesmerised by the hot night, the smells, the scents on the air and the swish of cars and the chirrup of cicadas, that he didn't spot his quarry until he ran right into him. And by then, it was too late. Julius grabbed him and slammed him into a tree.

'Ouch!' Alex exclaimed. And then he acted like there was no danger, knowing that was the best way to deal with it. 'What the hell are you doing.'

'Shh,' Julius said. 'Don't interrupt the performance.' He nodded towards the centre of the green at the edge of which they were standing, where a woman was standing on a stage, singing loudly in Portuguese.

'What?' Alex said.

'Look at her,' Julius said.

'What about her?'

'Is she prettier than me?'

'What the fuck kind of a question is that?'

'Just tell me what you think, Alex,' Julius said, squeezing his throat.

'Alright. Stop strangling and I will,' Alex growled. Julius raised an eyebrow at him and let go. 'Fine. I think no. Now will you stop angsting?'

**A/N: So, a disproportionate amount of Portuguese and Beach Boys came up there. Also I love Julius. I was depressed that my exams mean I can't do any writing, so I thought I'd bash this out. And not gonna lie, I cheated by a few seconds on some of them. But they were all made up as the song was playing. And I also skipped past the 'Grease Mega Mix' :P.**


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